


nothing remotely romantic

by phorie



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: BDSM, Consensual, F/M, Humiliation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Predicament Bondage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-30
Updated: 2019-11-30
Packaged: 2021-02-27 02:20:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21620005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phorie/pseuds/phorie
Summary: The anticipation is always one of the best and worst parts of this; if it was just a monthly session of getting tied up and fucked, Mercy's sure she would've tired of it by now but every month Roadhog offers something new.[consensual bdsm, humiliation play, sub!Mercy]
Relationships: Roadhog | Mako Rutledge/Angela "Mercy" Ziegler
Comments: 10
Kudos: 53





	nothing remotely romantic

They've been doing this for far, far too long. 

However, as she pulls in to her destination, she can't seem to bring an end to it yet.

This month's location looks a lot like the others, ramshackle but sturdy, and even though there's no-one around for miles, Mercy checks her mirrors out of habit as she parks up outside. A familiar blond head emerges from a cracked window and Mercy rolls her eyes as Junkrat yells, "Hey, the doc's here!"

She's not sure Junkrat (or Roadhog, for that matter) knows her actual name but it makes no difference. She's not Dr Ziegler today, or Angela; she's just Mercy.

The heat hits her like a punch when she steps out of the truck and she rolls up the sleeves of her shirt as she heads to the door. Roadhog is there before she can knock and she gives him a polite nod by way of greeting as he steps aside to let her in.

Junkrat comes scrambling down from the upstairs window, leg clattering on the wooden steps, and he smoothes his hair down as he waves at her. "Long time no see!"

"I've been busy," Mercy says, depositing her purse on a sufficiently stable bench. The inside of the shack is as expected -- a couple of beds and couches, some worktables, what passes as a kitchen out here -- but she's seen worse. 

"Out," Roadhog says, looking in Junkrat's direction and sticking his thumb in the direction of the door.

Junkrat deflates a little. "Can't I just stay this once?"

"No," Mercy and Roadhog say in unison.

"It's a sex thing, right?" he asks, skipping over to Mercy's side. "I'm good at sex!" He pauses, reconsiders. "Or enthusiastic, at least."

"No," Mercy says again. She slips one of her shoes off but is halted by a grunt from Roadhog before she can remove the second.

"Leave 'em on."

Junkrat lets out a quiet whimper. Mercy can empathise. Nevertheless, she obliges, sliding her heels back on, and turns to look expectantly at Junkrat.

"Is it a humiliation thing?" he asks, looking up at Roadhog now. "'Cause I get that. I can help with that! What's more humiliating than me watching?"

He offers a hopeful grin. While Mercy would be lying if she said she hadn't considered his involvement in some of her more regrettable fantasies, she's relieved when Roadhog just points firmly at the door again. "Out."

Junkrat sags but doesn't offer further argument as he makes a mournful exit. Not for the first time, Mercy wonders at the exact nature of the relationship between him and Roadhog but quickly puts the thought out of her mind. Roadhog knows nothing about her relationships outside their monthly meetings and she has no intention of learning any more about his.

The door clatters shut behind him and Roadhog nods to it. "Lock it."

Mercy obeys. The lock seems to be the most sturdy thing in the whole building, which provides some comfort even as she looks out through the dust-covered window at the silent expanse outside. She reaches up to tug the makeshift curtain closed but gets a disapproving tut for her troubles.

"I didn't say close it."

Across the room, couch springs squeak under Roadhog's weight and Mercy feels his eyes on her as he says, "Strip. Everything but the shoes and panties."

The dusty window feels crystal clear as Mercy unbuttons her shirt. Outside, Junkrat is still strolling away, oblivious to what's happening behind him, and she feels the first trickle of arousal as she discards her shirt and steps out of her neat black skirt. The air is warm against her skin and she takes a deep breath as she unhooks her bra and deposits it with the rest of her clothes.

They don't do this in front of anyone else -- that was one of the rules agreed at the start -- but the remoteness of the location still gives Roadhog plenty of leeway to tease at the edges of public exhibitionism. 

All too aware of the time he stuck a dildo to a window and had her fuck herself on it for what felt like hours, Mercy's breath hitches when she asks, "Where do you want me?"

"Right there," Roadhog says. "Be patient."

Patience was never one of her strong suits but she complies, rolling her shoulders and tucking her hair behind her ears. The anticipation is always one of the best and worst parts of this; if it was just a monthly session of getting tied up and fucked, she's sure she would've tired of it by now but every month Roadhog offers something new. Sometimes it's pure bondage, sometimes it's pure humiliation and sometimes it's just taking his dick in her ass until he's done with her.

She isn't sure what she's in the mood for today -- humiliation, maybe? -- but when Roadhog moves up and tugs her arms behind her back, she decides this is as good a start as any.

The rope loops around her elbows, forcing her arms back and her chest out, and she doesn't resist as Roadhog wraps the rope all the way down to her wrists. He pulls it taut, keeping her arms behind her, but she frowns when she feels another, separate rope hook over her already-tied wrists. 

The end of the rope drops to the floor, coiling in the dust, and Mercy looks down at it in confusion as Roadhog walks around in front of her. Sometimes she forgets just how tall he is but as he crouches down to retrieve the rope and then stands back up to his full height, she shivers in the wide shadow he casts.

He pays no attention to her bare breasts, focusing instead on her legs as he nudges them apart and slips the rope through. Her arms are pulled down, pushing her chest out further, and she bites her lip as Roadhog reaches up to tie the rope to a hook on the ceiling. He tightens it to a point just past comfortable and then steps back to admire his own handiwork. 

With the mask covering his face, his reaction is hard to read but Mercy's done this enough times now to recognise satisfaction when she sees it. The rope pulls taut between her legs, pressed against her cunt through the thin barrier of her panties, and she squirms as she tests the limits of her movements. 

The pressure against her clit is uncomfortable but she's pretty sure she could come like this if given the opportunity, and she looks to Roadhog for her next instructions.

Even through the mask, she hears the smirk in his voice when he says, "Stay."

He moves back behind her and her eyes widen in surprise when she hears the squeak of couch springs again. 

She waits for a minute, then two, expecting further contact, but tugs on the ropes when none is forthcoming. Every movement of her arms jostles the rope between her legs and she tips her head back with a quiet groan as her predicament hits home. 

The minutes keep passing. The shack is humid, sweltering in the afternoon sun, and she shakes a strand of hair out of her eyes as she watches dust swirl around her car outside. Sweat begins to bead on her forehead and she takes deep breaths, conscious of every sound she's making in the silence of the cabin.

Her heels click on the floor when she shifts, moving her hips to try to lessen the pressure against her clit, and she can't keep from exhaling in relief when she hears Roadhog stand up again.

There's a quiet clink of metal and then he's standing in front of her again, a pair of familiar clamps dangling from his thick fingers. 

"Make me an offer," he says.

Mercy blinks. "An offer?"

"Yeah." A breath in and out. "Your best three. For me to let you down."

Her brain is too slow. "I don't-"

She's cut off with a sharp yell when he grabs the rope and yanks it up, pulling hard against her cunt. She rises on tiptoes as much as her heels allow and pushes her arms down in a desperate attempt to reduce the tension. "Please!"

"What's your offer?"

"You can fuck me!" she begs.

His grip on the rope doesn't waver. "Where?"

"Wherever you wa-" She cries out again as the rope tightens and she stammers, "My mouth! You can fuck my mouth!"

He hums like he's considering it but shakes his head. "Second offer?"

Her pussy is on fire and she says the first thing that comes to mind. "You can fuck my cunt?"

The tension of the rope loosens as Roadhog looks down at her white panties. "Third offer?"

"My ass," she gasps. "You can fuck me wherever you want. Just please..."

She sags in relief when he lets go of the rope. The friction is still there, tight and painful, but back on the right side of bearable. She shifts position, feeling the trickle of sweat on the back of her neck, and humiliation ignites inside her at the realisation that her panties are soaked with far more than just sweat.

"No deal," Roadhog says. "My turn."

She struggles to focus, overwhelmed by different sensations, and looks up at him as he holds the clamps up. "Either these go on or your shoes come off."

Mercy's eyes go wide and, dumbly, she looks down at her heels. Her feet are hot and the heels aren't exactly comfortable but the thought of trying to keep herself raised on just her tiptoes is an intimidating one.

She swallows hard and makes her choice. "The clamps. Please."

Roadhog's reaction is impossible to read and Mercy catches her lips between her teeth when he reaches over to pinch her nipples. His fingers leave smears of dark grease on her tits but any thoughts of stains vanish when the metal of the clamps lock into place. 

He drops the thin chain connecting the clamps and Mercy moans at the shock of cold metal against her chest. Her breath is uneven now, heart pounding at the confluence of pain, heat and arousal coursing through her, but Roadhog just watches for a long moment before repeating his earlier order.

"Stay."

Mercy closes her eyes in defeat as he retires back to the couch. The seconds drag past, every minute seeming like ten as she tries not to think about the pinch of the clamps, the pressure of the rope, and the ache in her arms. 

The exertion of the position only makes her feel hotter and she shifts, embarrassed at the feeling of sweat running down her ribs, between her breasts, and down the backs of her calves. More strands of hair fall in front of her eyes and she cries out when her attempt at shaking them away causes the clamps to clink and jiggle.

From what she can see of her panties, they're now more see-through than white, with the rope between her legs beginning to darken as it soaks through. She tries grinding forward, seeking some kind of pleasure amid the pain, but it's too jumbled together in her head to split out the sensations.

Her desperate offers to Roadhog play over in her head and she presses her thighs together at the fresh wave of degradation that washes over her. He's always been good at hitting the right buttons when it comes to this kind of thing but the intensity of this, of forcing her to offer all her holes for his use only for him to reject her, has taken her by surprise.

She's trying to think of what to offer next when Roadhog stands back up from the couch. When he moves around in front of her, she's pleased to note that he's hard -- all her suffering clearly hasn't been in vain -- but he makes no move to take his dick out of his pants as he looks her up and down.

"Let's hear it," he says. "Best three offers."

Mercy considers. Roadhog's into almost everything -- it's hard to pin down what he could want most today -- and so she decides to cover her bases as best she can. "You can use the cattle prod on me."

While it's not a hard limit, she hates the cattle prod and Roadhog knows it. 

"Where?" he asks.

Mercy squeezes her eyes shut and doesn't think about how wet she is when she replies, "My cunt."

Roadhog chuckles. He sounds impressed but when she opens her eyes again, he's shaking his head. "Not today. Second offer?"

"I- I'll strip for you," she offers. "Wear whatever you want, even that corset. Give you a lapdance?"

They both know performing isn't one of her favorite activities, that she prefers things being done to her rather than her taking the lead, but Roadhog doesn't seem inclined to push her out of her comfort zone.

"You already stripped for me," he points out. He runs a finger down between her breasts and tugs on the chain of the clamps hard enough to make her sob. "Third offer?"

Her eyes flick downwards as she says, "I'll lick your boots. You can hogtie me on the floor and I'll clean them both. Just using my tongue."

His boots are coated in dust, and the floor is just as filthy, and Mercy holds her breath as he considers her proposal. 

"Tempting," he admits. "But not quite. No deal."

Mercy's heart sinks at the prospect of being left like this again. "Please..."

"Then make me a better offer next time," he says, impassive. "Now your choice: shoes off or ten strokes of the paddle?"

Her breathing is shaky when it comes out. Neither option is good but she isn't sure if she can handle the overload of a paddling on top of everything else. 

It feels like a surrender when she whispers, "The shoes." He tugs on the clamp chain again and she cries out. "Please!"

He releases the chain and she takes three deep breaths as he crouches down to help her slide her heels off. The floor is cool beneath her feet as she gets her balance again and she starts to think being made to lie on it wouldn't be such a bad outcome.

"You're hot."

She wouldn't have mistaken it for a compliment anyway but Roadhog's meaning is made clear when he runs a hand up her calf, catching a couple of trickles of sweat on the way. 

"I-It's warm," she says, lost.

He straightens up beside her and she feels the heat of him radiating through his clothes. "You should cool down."

He moves away before she can ask what he means. She expects to hear the squeak of the couch again but instead hears a metallic clatter and what sounds like sloshing water. "What-"

She shrieks when the water hits her. It must have been a bucket or some other container he kept out and Mercy gasps in shock when he empties it over her head. The force of it makes her lose her footing briefly and she curses as the rope digs in to her pussy before she manages to steady herself. "Fuck-"

The water's lukewarm at best but feels cold in comparison to the room as it courses down over her back and arms and legs to create a puddle at her feet. 

She shakes her wet hair out of her face, wincing at the bounce of the clamps as she does so, and looks over to where Roadhog is laughing. "F-Fuck you."

He laughs harder at that and shakes his head. "Language."

He moves behind her again and Mercy grits her teeth at the realisation that she's just earned herself a gag. 

"Tongue," Roadhog orders, and Mercy cringes when she sees the clothespin in his hand. 

Disobeying won't serve her well, however, and she reluctantly holds her tongue out for Roadhog to clamp the pin onto.

It doesn't hurt, not really, but he's used it on her enough times that she knows what's coming. It's not a particularly efficient gag -- she can still talk, mostly, and it doesn't affect her breathing -- but it's one of the most humiliating. 

Drool is already starting to run down her chin when Roadhog strolls back to his couch, and Mercy closes her eyes when she hears the snick of his zipper and the slick sounds of him stroking his cock. 

She can only imagine what she looks like, dripping wet, bound, and being tortured by the rope against her pussy, and she curls her fingers in her ropes as she tries to think of what will get her out of this.

If the game of 'offers' wasn't enough, the clothespin has confirmed that Roadhog's in the mood for humiliation today and she runs through all the ways she could debase herself to his satisfaction. They've done specific scenarios in the past -- forcing her to eat out of a bowl like a dog, dressing her as a maid and having her scrub that week's shack, making her cook for him and then dumping the leftovers in her lap -- but nothing that would fit easily with today's session.

Water drips from her hair, running down her spine and catching on her already-sodden panties, and she shivers at the sensation. Her nipples get more painful with every breath in but the rope against her cunt is unyielding, and as each minute creeps past, she's more and more willing to do whatever he wants if it means she gets to come.

He's tucked his cock away when he approaches her again but she can still see the outline of it through his pants, see the dark patch near the head which proves he's as ready as she is. 

He doesn't show it though as he asks, blunt as ever, "Let's hear it."

He doesn't take the pin off her tongue and Mercy's cheeks flush red at the knowledge that drool is trailing down her chest when she says, "If you don't want me to lick your boots, I can lick your feet instead."

The words are distorted by the clothespin but he seems to get the gist, even as he reaches down to unclip it. She sighs in relief, licking as much drool off her lips as possible, and says again, "I, uh- Foot worship?"

Neither of them have any strong feelings about feet but Mercy's been used as a footrest enough times to know that some very basic degradation might scratch today's itch.

Roadhog considers but shakes his head. "Second offer?"

"You can fuck my tits," Mercy says, then steels herself as she adds, "You can even leave the clamps on. Just please..."

Her nipples are two points of fire on her chest and having him tug on the chain even more would be agony but by now she accepts that as a fair price for her release.

"Tempting," Roadhog says, eyes on her breasts. 

He reaches up to grasp both of the clamps and Mercy tips her head back with a yell when he unclips them both at the same time. Blood rushes back into her nipples and she squirms desperately in her bonds when Roadhog gives them a gentle tweak. "God..."

"Next time," he promises. He adjusts himself in his pants and says, "Last offer?"

He palms himself, rubbing the length of his dick through his pants, and even with facefucking off the table, Mercy says the first thing that comes to mind. "You can teabag me."

Roadhog lets out a surprised laugh. "Teabag?"

Mercy knows her cheeks are bright red as she stammers, "I- I can suck you."

He hesitates for a long moment but eventually nods, laughing again. "Offer accepted."

Mercy nearly sobs with relief. Her legs are shaking when Roadhog reaches up to untie the rope from the hook and once she's free, she sinks gladly to her knees in the puddle on the floor. 

Roadhog tuts behind the mask and pulls on the rope to lead her across the room. She scrambles after him on her knees and settles gladly on the rug that he stops on. He doesn't let go of the rope, keeping it pulled between her legs even as he works his dick and balls free of his pants, and Mercy whines when she sees him tie the end to his belt.

Distantly, she can appreciate the detail -- keeping her bound and in place and tormented while she fulfills her side of the bargain -- but she can't help but move her hips into the rope as it provides just the right amount of friction against her clit.

Roadhog's hand grips her ponytail and forces her head back. "You can play," he says, "but you don't come until I do." He tugs her wet hair. "Got it?"

Mercy nods. "Yes." She glances down and licks her lips. "Can I..."

He gestures to his crotch with a nod and she moves in eagerly. He leaves his hand wrapped around his dick, keeping it raises and out of the way as he strokes slowly, and Mercy tries to angle her head to take his sac in her mouth. She licks over his balls, tasting the sweat against the vulnerable skin, and takes each into her mouth in turn.

Above her, Roadhog groans, jerking his dick faster, and Mercy allows herself to grind slowly against the rope. He's used her mouth dozens of times during their monthly meetings -- hard, fast, slow, deep, whatever he feels like -- but being down here yet kept away from his dick is new.

She tells herself it's the chill of the water which is making her nipples harden when she rubs herself against the rope. It's slicker now, wet with far more than water, and even with the barrier of her panties, the rope feels smoother as it slides against her clit.

She isn't sure what she'd do with her hands even if they weren't bound. Between her mouth and Roadhog's fist, they seem to have all bases covered, and she listens to the grunts above her get louder as Roadhog jerks himself off faster. 

He holds her hair in his free hand, pushing her head against him, and she catches the order of, "Both. Suck."

Nothing about him is small and she takes a deep breath as she opens her mouth to take his whole sac inside. It feels almost like a gag, forcing her lips and cheeks wide to accommodate him, and drool runs down her chin as she does her best to suck as commanded.

From Roadhog's groan, she's doing a decent job. His balls slide free of her mouth with a wet pop when he pulls her back and pleasant humiliation pulses between her legs as he rests his spit-slick sac on her chin. Another groan follows at the sight of her and she smiles as she slips her tongue out to lick him again. 

She barely has time to take a breath before he fills her mouth again. He doesn't pull out this time, just keeps them there as he raises up and down slightly in a parody of a facefuck. Embarrassment burns at just the right pitch and Mercy moans around him as she cants her hips against the rope. 

Roadhog's movements get faster, the balls in Mercy's mouth jostled by the pump of his hand on his dick, and he grips her hair roughly as he grunts, "Close your eyes."

He tugs her head backwards, sliding his balls free with that same loud pop, and Mercy doesn't get chance to even close her mouth before he comes with a groan. It splatters over her face, landing in heavy stripes across her bangs, eyes, and nose, and she darts her tongue out to taste as a couple of drops spill into her open mouth.

Held in place by his hand, Mercy keeps her eyes closed and listens to his breathing even out. She feels him move and then cries out in surprise at the sharp pull on the rope between her legs. Reflexively, she spreads her knees wider, moving her hips in a silent plea, and she exhales in relief when Roadhog says, "Make yourself come."

The rope itself is almost enough. The friction, the pressure, the waiting all push her quickly towards release, but as Roadhog's come trickles down her cheek, it's the perfect twist of shame which sends her over the edge.

She comes hard, harder than she was expecting when her only stimulation is a rope, and she lets Roadhog's hand in her hair keep her steady as she rides out wave after wave of excruciating release. 

Her thighs are trembling, hands numb and tits aching, but it all folds together to leave her breathless and floating as the last of the aftershocks shudder through her.

Roadhog's hand has switched from pulling her hair to stroking it as she finishes. All too conscious of the come clotting in her eyelashes, she keeps her eyes closed and sinks down to sit on her heels when she feels the rope come loose. 

He steps away, leaving her aware of just how exposed she is as she fights to catch her breath, but returns a second later to wipe at her face with a damp cloth. She blinks her eyes open, feeling the shack spin around her as she does so, and she remains still and pliant as Roadhog unbinds the rope from her arms and helps her stretch out any aches. 

She doesn't trust herself to stand just yet and so doesn't protest when he scoops her up off the floor and settles her on his squeaky couch. 

A to-do list begins to come together -- check the time, shower, dry hair, dress, put on clean panties, find shoes, reapply makeup -- but Roadhog's body is large and warm against hers and she allows herself a few moments of respite before tackling any of it. 

"That was good."

His voice rumbles through her and Mercy floats a little higher at the praise. She stifles a yawn and says, half-accusingly, "It was mean to make me offer everything."

He chuckles. "You don't come here for me to be nice."

"No," Mercy agrees. She runs a hand down her forearm, tracing the markings left by the restraints. "It was excellent."

Roadhog grunts in agreement and not for the first time, Mercy is glad he isn't the talkative type. She stretches her legs out, observing the dirt covering her knees and shins, but can't quite bring herself to stand yet. Beside her, Roadhog's breathing is slowing and she glances over with a smile. "I should go."

"Uh-huh."

Her eyelids are heavy, even though the rest of her feels lighter than she has for weeks. "I'll be in touch about next month."

Roadhog nods. "See you then."

She yawns, resting her head against his shoulder. His breathing gets slower and heavier, closer to a snore, and lulled by the sound of it, Mercy lets her eyes drift closed.

If she happens to fall asleep on his couch for an hour or so, neither of them mentions it.


End file.
